Bikers and Punks don't mix, do they?
by Chernobyal
Summary: The original gang of L4D meet up with a new lone face. There are eventually gonna be relations between Zoey and this new guy. Eventual ZoeyXOC Rating it M to be safe.
1. Sitting In a Safe Room

I sat cross-legged on the floor of the Safe house, cleaning out my shotgun. It was frustrating how often the damn thing had to be opened up. It turned out movies and videogames were full of lies-you can't just shoot indefinitely.

Ammo, ammo, ammo: the three magical words of an apocalypse.

It was a miracle the guys and I all preferred different types of guns; that way we weren't fighting over the damn bullets like we used to fight over health packs.

I shook my head slightly, grinning down at my weapon of choice before looking over at the guys. Bill was asleep, his gun in his lap, Louis was reading a book he found a few days ago in one of the apartments we went through, and Francis was staring up at the ceiling, his eyes glazed over with what I assumed was pure boredom.

"Hey, Francine,"

He blinked, his eyes refocusing, and glared intently at me. "What do you want, Zoey?"

"Are you okay?" I pieced my gun back together and it emitted a loud clicking noise. "You look a little freaked out."

He snorted, turning back to stare at the ceiling. "I'm bored."

I snickered and set the gun down next to me, stretching.

Back a few weeks ago, when we were all still getting to know one another, we would enter these somewhat scary, heated arguments. I was always so scared that someone would eventually snap with a gun in his hand.

"I know, Zoey," Louis said one night, his voice hushed. Francis and Bill were around the corner of the alley we stood in, discussing strategies to fight off Jockeys. I was about to join them before a hand on my shoulder stopped me and Louis gave me a pointed look. "Trust me, they scare me too. But I don't think it'll get out of control."

I looked at him for a few seconds before nodding. He gave me a curt nod back and went around the corner to the others. I followed behind silently.

Yeah, Bill and Francis did not like each other one bit at first, but I think we all bonded throughout this entire mess. As the weeks trickled on, the fights decreased in frequency until we were left with occasional bickering.

We stopped hogging the pain pills and medical tape and eventually even offered to heal one another. This group of 4 strangers was, sappily enough, starting to turn into a tight-knit family.

A shake to my shoulder brought me back to the present.

"Zoey?" Louis said, stepping back. "Are you ready?"

I nodded. "Mhm, let's do this."


	2. Crash Course

The force of the impact as the Helicopter crashed into the building knocked the breath out of me. The area immediately went up in flames and I let out a scream, grabbing at the straps holding me in my seat. Finally, my fingers found the clasp and I clicked it open, springing to my feet and away from the closest flames.

The sound of a metal sheet crashing through the roof nearly deafened me and I covered my ears, panic picking me raw. The sheet went flying through my seat, slicing it through straight down the middle.

I swallowed hard, unable to tear my eyes away from the wreckage. Even in my panic, I quickly came to the realization that I had almost met my own end. I had no time to mull over my thoughts, for someone grabbed and dragged me through the side of the Helicopter.

Louis led me forward by my upper arm, out and away from the burning remains of our original means of escape. When we were far enough away, he released me and we both collapsed onto the dirt, covered in sweat and blood.

"Thank you," I turned to him, coughing.

Louis only nodded in reply before being taken over by a coughing fit.

I looked around nervously at our surroundings, nervous that his coughing would attract unwanted attention, and quickly came to the conclusion that we were pretty lucky as to where we crash-landed.

The helicopter was in the center of an open field with only old, abandoned warehouses around. No infected were rushing in to tear us apart, so the nearest infected must have been more than at least half a mile away from us.

Francis and Bill came up behind us, their arms full with goods salvaged from the fire. They placed everything on the ground before us, handling the guns with care as to keep them from going off accidentally and killing someone.

"Hey, Sunshine Beam. We just crashed." Francis turned to Louis, raising an eyebrow. "You got somethin' positive to say about that?"

Louis smiled. "We're walking away from it, ain't we?"

There was a pause, then Francis sighed. "Yeah, alright... I'll give you that."

"What n—" I coughed, clearing my throat. "What now?"

"Well, where are we?"

"Um," Louis pulled a map from his pocket. "The last thing the pilot said… We're in Fairside, which is right here…" He pointed to a spot on the map. "This area looks more industrial, so we're probably around here."

Bill walked over and squinted at the map. "What's that street called?"

"… Wade Avenue?"

"I'm willing to bet you that that Avenue is right past those warehouses ." Bill pointed somewhere behind him and Louis turned. "The pilot was taking us to that there town a few miles past Fairside."

"Riverside? That's right here."

"Well," Bill sighed, running a hand over his face. "Guess that's where we're headed. Let's go."

I took one of the shotguns, tightened the strap, and flung it over my shoulder. We all split supplies equally whenever we could find any, and today was no exception. There were medical kits in the helicopter and the guys managed to salvage four of them, one for each of us.

I claimed one of the kits and checked the safety on my pistol. The last thing I needed was to shoot myself in the leg.

When the others were ready, we started walking along the edge of a building, guns ready. There were a few infected scattered here and there. Bill was the only one with a silenced gun, so he took care of most of them with lone headshots. We didn't want to draw attention to ourselves, and there were few enough infected in the immediate area that a silenced shotgun could handle them singlehandedly.

For all we knew, a horde sat waiting on the other side of the next building. We couldn't take the chance of having everyone shoot and make too much noise.

An hour later and we had gone a little over a mile. We were moving slowly, but this was unfamiliar territory.

"How do we know there are even Safe Houses around here?" I hissed under my breath. I crouched next to a crate, staring out the entrance to the warehouse we were camped inside of.

"What else are we supposed to do, Zoey?" Bill said from somewhere behind me. "It's not like we can just waltz over to the closest person and ask them if there are Safe Houses in the area. We need to take a chance."

"I know," I sighed, slowly making my way over to a nearby door. Raising my gun, I turned the handle and slowly opened the door, preparing myself for what could be inside. There was one infected sitting against the opposite wall with its head between its knees. I motioned to Bill and he raised his gun. A second later the infected was collapsed on the ground of the warehouse, the fragments of its head splattered on the wall behind it.

I went through a few boxes, not expecting to find anything, when my eyes settled on a Propane tank.

"Francis," I said and motioned to the tank.

He used one hand to raise it with ease and I groaned internally. I was coming to terms with the fact that I was the least valuable member of this group, but it was a work in progress.

Bill was an amazing strategist because of his experience in Vietnam. Following his lead, we could maneuver past an entire horde of infected without alerting a single one, not to mention that he knew exactly when to throw what explosive to get the best possible result.

Louis had killer accuracy: he could knock out an active Jockey from fifty meters with one bullet.

Francis was huge and unquestionably the strongest out of all of us. One hit with a baseball bat and a dozen infected heads go flying, completely decapitated. He could lug that Propane tank for the next two hours without breaking a sweat, while I wouldn't even be able to raise it off the ground.

Granted, he's thirteen inches taller and about a hundred and fifty pounds heavier, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm virtually useless.

We left the warehouse and made our way towards a tall chain-linked fence. Louis was leading with Francis right behind him and Bill all the way in the back, behind me. After a few more steps, Louis stopped dead in his tracks and turned back to us, wide-eyed.

"I think I hear a Witch."


	3. Our Favorite Zombie in White

The Witch was fairly easy to hear when we all stopped to listen. I honestly did not know how we hadn't heard her sooner. It was an unsettling thought, considering she must have been close.

Based on the sound of her wails, we all assumed she was somewhere up ahead, to our left.

Witches always confused me to no end. They were so… human. As the other infected growled and scurried about like rabid animals, the Witches simply sat and wept. Even when we startled them, they knowingly targeted one person and chased us more like enraged humans rather than crazed animals. It was like they knew they were infected, that they were no longer human, and their lack of humanity brought them to tears. They only attacked us, not the other infected that roamed about, so it was like Witches were jealous of our being human, of our being immune to the infection.

They were pitiful and I regretted killing them the most.

Louis fell back next to Bill, the stress too much for him to handle, so Francis opted to lead. As we approached a two story building, the wailing became impossibly loud and I felt an involuntary shiver pass through my body. This was not the first Witch we had come across, and it certainly would not be the last, yet my soul filled with dread at the thought of facing her.

Francis turned to me and although he tried to maintain a poker face, I could see the fear in his eyes. He looked over at an open metal door up ahead and then back at me. I nodded, acknowledging his silent question: "_do you think she's in there?"_

We passed the building carefully. I kept looking over at the door, straining my ears to hear any changes in the Witch. When we were level with the door, I spotted her, hunched over and weeping. Her hands were covering her face, her long claws sticking out in all directions. She continued to wail, completely oblivious to our presence.

There was a screech behind us and we all turned, wide-eyed and jumpy.

A Spitter came out from behind a car and made a gurgling noise before sending a ball of acid in our direction. It took only a second for Francis to raise his gun and the Spitter to hit the floor, crumpling over herself. Unfortunately, he couldn't stop the acid.

It came at us fast, and by the time the Spitter was down, it had spread across the ground. We all jumped out of the way, cursing, coming closer to that metal door.

I could hear a few yelps coming from all around me as the infected took notice of our presence. I turned and sent three bullets into the chest of the one closest to me. He staggered before hissing and swiping at me. I flinched, sending another bullet through his skull. He coughed up blood before collapsing at my feet with a dull thud.

I let out a sigh and turned to the next one. She came at me faster, more focused than the last. It took two bullets to take her down and she fell to her knees before me, gurgling as blood poured out of her mouth.

I practically didn't notice as two more turned their attention to me. Killing them one by one: it was becoming almost reflexive.

Aim. Shoot. Aim. Shoot. He's still standing? Shoot again. Repeat.

I felt something grab my shoulder, squeezing hard, and I spun around, slamming myself into the zombie behind me. She stumbled a few feet back and I pulled the trigger, aiming straight for between her eyes.

Nothing.

She regained her footing as I scrambled to reload my gun, but I was too slow. She was almost on top of me, preparing to bite straight through my arm when her skull exploded, splattering my body with dark, maroon blood.

"Watch your ass!" Francis shouted to me and pumped his shotgun. "You're welcome."

"Thank you," I spared him a quick glance and reloaded my gun.

"Yeah, well…" He trailed off, turning his attention back to the few infected that were left.

My gun brought down infected after infected all coming to rip my throat out. With each shot, I stepped closer to my companions until all four of us had our backs pressed to one another, shooting in every direction. We were all mindful of the Witch and kept moving farther away from the building, trying to put as much distance between us and her as possible.

Suddenly there was no one left to shoot.

Around us, all the nearby infected were either dead or dying. I looked at the others, and they all seemed fine, relatively unmarked save for a few old cuts and bruises. The dead infected in piles around them, however, were not nearly as lucky.

Relief coursed through me. We came out well this time. The commotion hadn't even startled the Witch. I could still hear her wailing somewhere behind us within the building, her cries continuing to pierce the air. They were music to my ears: a calm Witch meant a happy Zoey.

And then, the cries were drowned out by the sound of bone-chilling laughter.

I froze. Beside me, Francis had a look of confusion that was starting to turn into one of fear. Before we could react, however, the laughter stopped as suddenly as it had begun.

There was silence for a few seconds as we all looked around us. I squinted, my eyes searching for anything that could have been making that terrifying, insanity-inducing sound.

A scream and the sound of a struggle. "Get it off! Get it off of me!"

I flinched and spotted Louis running about the area. A hunched over creature clung to his shoulders, pulling him this way and that. He screamed again, swiping at it frantically.

"Stand still, goddamn it." Bill grunted, shooting at the Jockey in vain. "Stand still!" After five bullets, the Jockey yelped and fell to the ground, dead.

"Christ," Louis gasped for air, cradling his head in his hands. "Jesus Christ."

"Are you okay?" I jogged up to him, placing a hand onto his shoulder. He had cuts across his face and arms where the Jockey got to him. Francis and Bill stood behind us, a good twenty or more feet away.

"Yeah, I think," Louis said, his hands pulling at the ripped fabric on his shoulders so that he could take a closer look.

He didn't have too much time to pull himself together. A deep, throaty growl sent the dread coursing straight through me and it came to mind that the Jockey had Louis wander a little too close to our favorite zombie in white and I, like the smart girl I was, followed him.

I turned and locked in on the Witch. Her eyes darted back and force between Louis and I. Her mouth opened slowly, like I was watching it in slow motion, before she let out another deep growl.

"That Witch ain't gonna hold still much longer," Louis said, his voice high and panicky.

The others spun quickly to look at her, but she was concentrated intently on the two of us.

As quickly as I possibly could, I grabbed Louis by the wrist and we sprinted in the other direction, eager to get out of her hair before she decided to turn one of us into deli meat. By the sound of footsteps, the others were right behind us.

As we ran, the Witch's growling turned more lively, desperate. My heart was quite possibly permanently lodged into my throat.

"She's on 'er feet! She's on 'er feet!" Francis shouted behind us.

I was tempted to look back but knew that would only slow me down. Behind us, the Witch's growls turned into screams. There was a loud crash and I let go of Louis, pushing my legs to move faster.

We all turned the corner and came to a sudden stop. A tall chain linked fence stood in front of us, blocking our only escape. Louis hesitated only for a moment before lunging at it and beginning to climb.

He stopped halfway, looking down at me with an expression of pure bewilderment. "Zoey, get your ass moving. She's either after me or you."

"Can you make it up?" Francis turned to me and I shook my head no.

He pulled me over next to the fence and before I could realize what was going on, raised me up into the air and threw me onto it, practically flinging me over to the other side.

My fingers curled around the top of the fence and I scrambled to regain my balance. A second later, I was crawling down the other side.

Francis and Bill stood where they were, unleashing as many bullets as they could into the Witch. Louis was crouched on the ground, firing madly. I debated whether or not to keep running before joining him.

The Witch stopped at the chain linked fence, completely ignoring Francis and Bill. Blood poured out of the many bullet holes across her body, but she completely ignored it, instead opting to shriek at me and leap up onto the fence, making it to the top in less than a second.

"Shit!" I cried and scrambled to my feet, breaking into a run.

"Run like hell!" Someone called out behind me, but I wasn't entirely sure who. I made sure to run at an angle though, so that the others would have a clear shot at the Witch without worrying about hitting me.

Based on the volume of her screams, the Witch was getting progressively closer, and I mentally prepared myself for that inevitable moment when her claws would reach me and rip through the skin on my back.

Before it happened, her screaming stopped and I heard something fall to the ground behind me.

I risked turning to look behind me and saw that she was face first on the ground, her butt sticking into the air.

I slowed myself to a stop and fell into a crouch, gasping for oxygen.

Louis began to make his way toward me and I saw Bill and Francis start to climb up the fence.

"Man, girl, I can't believe how fast you ran." Louis stopped in front of me, offering a hand.

I took it and he pulled me up to my feet.


	4. We're Just Not Lucky

**Sorry for not updating in a while. There was a whole family issue I had to take care of. I'll be updating more frequently from now on!**

* * *

><p>After that Witch fiasco, we made our way back over the fence and to where she had been crying. It turned out the building with the open metal door was the only way to get out of the area—everything else was a dead end—and the Witch would have had to be startled anyway.<p>

We scurried through the building, which turned out to be a small store cleared out of its items ages ago, without stopping much, all of us anxious to cover some distance first. It was mostly completely empty save for some wooden crates and a crowbar.

"Guess I'll be takin' this then." Francis picked it up, grinning as he tested its weight.

I rolled my eyes and walked over to where Louis was standing. I glanced out of a nearby window and my eyes widened. It was a bridge.

"Guys," I called. "We can cross the river on that bridge."

"I think," Louis pulled the map out from his back pocket and unfolded it, staring intently at it in silence.

I crouched on the ground next to him and gave another quick scan of the outside area, waiting for him to get his bearings. It was staring to get dark: the sky was a bright orange and nighttime was no more than a half hour away.

"I think we're right on a street leading to the bridge," he said eventually. "It should be easy to get on it."

"So we're out of the warehouses?"

"Yup."

"I'm not looking forward to this."

He turned to me, a look of confusion etched onto his face. "In general or specifically because of the bridge?"

I raised my eyebrows and slowly pulled myself to my feet. "It's kind of hard to run away from zombies when you're stuck on a bridge."

He snorted, waving away my sentence with a flick at the wrist. "Come on, no little handful of zombies is gonna stop us anymore."

"Don't get cocky, Louis." Bill appeared next to me. He was looking down at his gun in almost a loving way and I realized that he had found himself a new one. His old shotgun was slung neatly over his shoulder, the safety on. "Assault rifle, ladies. This shit's getting' more like 'Nam every second. There's a second one over where Francis is if you care to have your own."

I counted up my ammo and sighed. "Are they loaded?"

"Fully. Extra ammo right there too. 'Tslike they were made for us."

"How much?"

"I don't know, kid. Go look."

I claimed the second assault rifle for myself and we headed out of the building. On my way out the door, I spotted a magazine rack. "Hey Francis, they've got the latest issue of Hating Everything Magazine here."

"I hate latest issues."

I snickered to myself and stepped out the door, adjusting my rifle. We could hear coughing somewhere nearby and all agreed that it was most likely a Smoker tailing us.

"Stand together," Bill commanded, making his way to the front. We went around a tipped over tanker truck, shooting the infected before they could notice us. I glanced around for the Smoker every once in a while but he was crafty, hiding out and waiting for the perfect time to strike.

Louis was right: we were right at the base of the bridge. Unfortunately, the way onto it was completely blocked by wreckage.

"Well, now what?"

"I don't know."

Francis walked off to the side, looking over the edge of some railing. "Oh hey," he started. "I think we could go around the wreck through here."

I walked over next to him, following his gaze. There was a path hugging the shore straight below us. If Francis was right, this was our ticket out of here.

"Let's go then," I said, jumping onto the top of a truck below me which stood only a few feet shorter than the platform we were all on.

I dropped to the side of the truck cautiously and saw Francis come down beside me. Bill was crouching on the top of the truck, looking around.

I turned and saw Louis about to jump when the Smoker finally made its move. Its tongue shot out, wrapping itself around Louis' neck and torso. he screamed and pulled at it, trying to breathe.

I gasped and raised my gun, sending a bullet through the tongue. It ripped and Louis fell onto the truck, slipping off and landing on top of Francis.

I pulled myself up to a higher spot on the truck, trying desperately to spot the smoker. It was no use, though, and I dropped down to the ground.

"You're having no luck today, eh, kid?" Bill pulled Louis up, patting him on the shoulder.

"I'll say." Francis stood, brushing the dust off his vest. "I think Smokey and that Jockey are jealous."

"What?" I stopped, turning to him.

" Louis claimed that Spitter back there as his girlfriend and the vampires are jealous."

Bill and I snorted, smiling. Louis only sighed, nudging Francis. "You don't have to talk trash, man. I know you want her."

"Ha!" I laughed, shaking my head. "Yeah, Francis wants some of that Spitter thang."

"I can see why Francis picked the Spitter," Bill smirked.

"Why?"

"Well, she's already in her undergarments. It's too much work trying to undress a Hunt-"

"Alright, alright!" Francis cut him off and pushed through past us. He shot three infected in their heads. I snickered to myself when I realized the infected he chose were a girl, a black man, and an elder. "Let's get out of here before I reach my retirement age."

We all followed him along the outer wall. The platform ended, leaving a strip of rocks between us and the next platform. We all paused before Bill started climbing over the rocks, making his way to the other side. Louis and I shared a look before shrugging and following him. Francis was last.

"I hate rocks." He sighed.

I felt a faint smile form on my lips.

The platform on the other side led to a an open area littered with small warehouses. Bill gave the signal and we split up, two people per warehouse. I went into the first one with Louis while the others disappeared down into the next.

"Do you see anything?"

I shook my head no, rummaging through the boxes on the shelves for anything of use. "This is stupid. These warehouses were cleaned out ages ago."

"You never know, Zoey. People might have missed something."

I let out a sigh, kicking the closest box lightly with the side of my foot. I let my rifle hang at my side and looked out of the window as Louis continued to rummage through boxes next to me. "I give up."

He chuckled and paused for a second to raise up a little plastic container, inspecting the label. "Yeah, well, it'll take us twice as long to get out of here then if I have to look through all these boxes myself. Here," he turned to me, shaking the container lightly. Whatever was inside it rattled.

I took the container from him and held it up to the diminishing sunlight, straining my eyes to read the small print. The writing gave brief instructions to not store in direct sunlight and something about discarding if the seal is broken. There was no information on the actual contents. "What is this?"

"I have no idea."

"Should we take it?"

He shrugged. "I don't know but this whole box is full of them."

I peered over his shoulder into the cardboard box. There were at least seven or eight of these containers, all various sizes.

"This looks suspicious."

He snored. "Hell yeah it does."

The sound of frantic footsteps pulled my heart into my throat and I spun around toward the door, raising my gun.

Francis appeared at the entrance a second later, gasping for air. "Tank!" He shouted, his voice cracking. "Tank!"

Louis surged to his feet and we ran out the warehouse, Francis close behind us.

"Where's Bi—?"

"Help!" Bill's voice rang with panic.

He was pressed up against a wall, his gun raised high. In front of him, the Tank roared, raising its fists in the air. Before it could smash Bill into a pile of meat and broken bones, a deafening boom filled the air and I cringed, fighting the urge to cover my ears.

Something shot through the air past us, hit the Tank square in the back, and exploded. The Tank staggered, giving Bill enough time to run to our side. He slipped past it and came straight toward us, pulling out a Molotov and throwing it back at the Tank as he ran. It cried out in pain as the flames engulfed it, but I knew better than to assume that they did any damage.

"Shoot and run, shoot and run!" A man's voice behind us shouted over the Tank's bellowing. I raised my rifle, sending bullet after bullet into the Tank as I ran, desperate to bring it down before it could regain its senses.

"Out in the open!" The voice commanded again. Whoever this was, he was obviously all too aware of the dangers that this truck of a monster posed if any one of us got cornered.

We ran for the open field, the bridge just ahead of us. The Tank followed, each one of his steps creating a miniature earthquake.

"Biker dude and lady in pink, duck!"

I shot to the ground, covering my head with my hands as a piece of concrete flew over me and exploded on the ground a few yards ahead.

There was a scream that sounded an awful lot like...

"Francis!" I shouted but had no time to worry about his safety.

I looked behind me as I ran and my stomach did a somersault when I realized that the explosion from before did hardly any damage to this monster. It was a stupid thing to do in the middle of running, because I fell face first into a ditch, crying out in pain.

I scrambled to my feet before collapsing in the ditch again, my leg not able to hold my weight as my gun hung uselessly off of my shoulder. I rubbed at my eyes, trying desperately to regain my vision. The panic started to set in, making it harder to breathe.

Around me, I could hear gunfire and a string of curses from an orchestra of different voices. Someone on my left shouted, "Zoey's down!" and I felt guilty for not helping kill the Tank, but there was nothing I could honestly do now but rub at my eyes and hope the damage to my vision was only temporary. I folded in on myself, nursing my injured leg and trying to keep away from the action. All I could think about was how hard it was for me to think right now, and it didn't help that the Tank could smash his fist into me right now and I wouldn't even see it coming.


	5. The Bridge

The Tank must have been pretty banged up, because it didn't last much longer than I did.

As I rubbed at my eyes, trying to get the dust out, the others began to cheer. I looked up, blinking, and saw the Tank crumpled on the ground. Bill stood over it, his mouth turned up into a crooked grin. The gun in his hand was still cocked, and despite his cheering, he looked wary.

"You okay?"

I turned my head and took the hand Louis was offering. He brought me to my feet in one fluid motion and gave me a pat on the shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm fi—"

"Goddamn it." Francis came limping towards us, his face twisted into a scowl. The jean material over his right knee was ripped and blood trickled down his leg. Before anyone could say anything, he limped past us and picked up the gun he lost during the battle. "I hate goddamn tanks."

I pulled some medical tape and rubbing alcohol out of my pack and instructed Francis to sit down and shut up. He immediately started to complain about the alcohol.

"Are you meaning to tell me that a big, strong biker like you can't take a little ethanol, Francine?"

He scowled at me and puffed up his chest before commanding that I "bring it on."

After I finished patching Francis up as best as I could, we regrouped and headed in the direction of the bridge. The man who helped us take the tank down had disappeared the second it hit the dirt. We assumed he would have stuck around if he wanted to travel with us, so we didn't wait around for him. Based on how he had handled the tank, he seemed much more capable at fighting the infected than any of us, including Bill. It would have been nice to have someone that good on our team to watch our backs. Then, maybe, surviving wouldn't be such a distant dream.

By the time we made it to the bridge, we were all exhausted. Francis seemed to be the only one of us that was truly hurt. He held his own at first, but ended up having to lean on Louis.

I suggested we stop a few times, but it seemed that each time I brought it up, Francis would get all the more motivated to keep going. I realized then that it would be best if I just stop talking. Francis has his ridiculous pride to think about, and he'd be ready to push himself into a coma if it meant not showing weakness.

Louis himself didn't look so hot. He was holding his left arm unnaturally close to his chest, almost cradling it. It didn't seem swollen, but I made a mental note to pester him about it later.

Bill and I were in the best shape. My vision was compromised at first, but I ended up sacrificing some of my bottled water to wash my face off, which helped considerably. The only thing weighing Bill down was his own age. He never mentioned it, but I noticed him quietly gasping for breath whenever we paused somewhere. Suddenly, the lines in his face, around his eyes, seemed that much more pronounced. I found myself worried about his health, and if, god forbid, something happened to him… our own as well.

With Francis hurt, our situation wasn't looking too good and I could only hope that we'd cross the bridge safely. My hopes, however, were crushed when we stood at one end, staring at the barricade of cars littering the entrance.

"Maybe we can climb?" Louis looked from the barricade back to us, giving a small, hopeful smile.

Bill made a sharp snort. "No chance of climbing that, kid."

"But we can blow it up."

We turned to look back at Francis. He had a crooked smile etched on his face. He was leaning against a metal cart, his finger pointing at—

"Holy mother of…" I muttered. It looked like a fancy looking cannon. It was about the size of a motorcycle and looked about five times as heavy, covered in grey and brown camouflage paint. "What is that?"

"A Howitzer." Bill moved past me. He placed one leg at the edge of the cart and pulled himself up into it. "This baby's gonna be loud."

"Hold up," Louis started, "Isn't this a little too convenient? What's a giant weapon doing right in front of a barricaded bridge just waiting for us to use it?"

"Maybe someone brought it here and never got a chance to use it?" I suggested. "Could have gotten bit."

"Could have."

"We don't have time for this," Bill sighed. "Get in the cart. We'll cover each other's backs. I don't know how many of them zombies there are around here, but the explosion will attract every single one."

The explosion was possibly the loudest thing I had ever heard in my life. I clamped my hands over my ears and watched chunks of metal fly off the bridge and scatter about. Entire cars plopped into the dark water below us. A few of the cars exploded and fire began to rise from their remains, engulfing the bridge in flames. I could hear the screams of infected as they took notice of us.

"We can't cross it now!" Louis cried out. His voice was high and squeaky in my ears, panicked.

"Calm down, kid. The flames 'ill die down soon."

"Before or after us?"

"Get ready!"

I took a deep breath, steadying myself for the incoming horde. My gun was raised, ready to fire. As soon as the first heads appeared through the bushes before me, I pulled the trigger and sent out a wave of bullets.

I could feel my heart jump into my throat. Yes, we've been doing this a while. No, I'm not used to it. When I see them jump out from behind something, foaming at the mouth as they charge at me, I can't breathe. I still wake up screaming from the nightmares of the monsters choking me with their own tongues and tearing me to shreds with horrifyingly long claws.

I felt a hand wrap around my leg and pull, knocking me over onto my back. I hit the ground hard and gasped, my lungs crying out for the air that was knocked out of them.

They surrounded me immediately, pulling at my arms and scratching everything they could reach. I screamed, covering my face with my hands. I vaguely recall someone calling my name and a familiar ticking sound. Suddenly, the hands were gone and I was being pulled up by my shoulders. I watched the infected all crowd around one spot, screaming and waving their arms, looking for someone to kill.

I stood up onto the platform, still dazed. Francis let go of my shoulders and thumped my back, trying to get my attention. It took me a while to realize that Bill had been calling my name.

I pulled myself together and picked up my gun, bracing for the pipe bomb's explosion. "Yeah?"

"Too many," Bill barked at us. "Need'ta push through." He jerked his head towards the bridge and shifted away from us.

"The fire?"

He just shook his head and moved away again.

Francis moved ahead with the shotgun, clearing a small path through the infected for us with each bullet. I jumped off the platform after him, allowing as little space between us as possible. God bless his shotgun—each bullet pushed the infected back, giving the rest of us time to finish them off. I only had to occasionally shove something out the way.

Louis put away his pistols and moved to lead with his own shotgun while Francis reloaded. By the time we made it to the bridge, the fire had died down enough for us to try and get through, single file.

"Stay in formation!" Bill barked out from behind me.

I slammed a zombie with the butt of my gun, sending her back before shooting her between the eyes. She collapsed to her knees only to be replaced by two more. I brought them down quickly and scrambled to reload, my breath catching in my throat. I looked over my shoulder, back at the platform we had been on.

It was completely overrun. The infected were climbing over it, attracted to our scent. They sniffed at its sides, trying to figure out where we had gone.

I had a moment of realization then, and suddenly Bill's words became all the more important. The wave wasn't getting any smaller. He'd seen that and had gotten us off the platform before it was too late. I made a mental note to tell Francis to shut up the next time he tried to argue with our personal veteran.

I turned to look ahead again and was met face to face with a set of yellow, rotting teeth molded into a sneer. I yelped and stepped back, raising my gun, but before I could react, the infected jerked and collapsed in front of me. There were three neatly placed bullet holes on its upper back.

I breathed out a "thank you" to whoever out of my three companions shot it and regained my composure. Concentrating on our current situation was more important than dwelling on the past, no matter how much those teeth startled me.

The bridge was littered with abandoned cars and trucks, along with a banged up ambulance. The lock on the ambulance's back doors was jammed, and Francis worked on prying its doors open while we surrounded him, fighting off the infected.

"Ha, I'm awesome," Francis cheered when he finally managed to pull the doors apart. He stepped inside, rummaging through containers and drawers. "I got some medical tape and… some kind of ointment?"

"Let me see," Louis said, stepping into the ambulance.

"We have to move on while there aren't many infected," I said, bringing down what used to be a young woman in a dark blue dress, her hair tangled and littered with foliage. She let out a high yelp before collapsing on the ground, her drying blood a dark red as it pooled around her.

We sprinted farther down the bridge, trying to find a balance between stealth and speed. The infected behind us were dwindling in number: a promising sign but not good enough. There was a break in the guard rail and I stopped there, looking over the edge. There were a few more warehouses, but no infected, as far as I could see.

"This way?" I called out.

They backtracked and joined me in looking over the edge.

"Yeah, let's try it."

We climbed down one at a time and looked about the area: a small courtyard with a large fence all around. It was completely closed off. I could feel my ears redden with panic as I processed the mistake we made.

"No exits." I muttered, looking up at where we came from, at how high it was, at how impossible it would be to go back. "No exits!" I repeated, louder now.

"This way," a voice called out from behind me. "Hey!"

I spun around and immediately spotted a man a few meters ahead, waving his arms around, desperately trying to get noticed. He moved back a few feet, motioning for us to follow. I let loose a few bullets into the approaching infected coming from the bridge before following this man. He squeezed through a small crack in one of the walls and stood off to the side, helping each of us through. Francis got caught in it—it was a tight fit for him-—but a little screaming on his part and a dash of elbow grease on ours and he popped right through.

The stranger led us through the building, out a large pair of doors, and through a few alleys. I sprinted after him as he twisted and turned, doing my best to keep up. Eventually, he led us to the metal doors of a Safe House. He swung them open and stepped aside as we all barreled through. Francis was the last to step inside before the stranger slammed the door shut and bolted it. We could hear slamming coming from the outside, from the handful of infected that followed us through that maze.

I turned to the stranger, my face breaking into a grin. He was out of breath with a thin layer of sweat on his forehead.

"We never would have made it here without your guidance. Thank you—"

"Logan." He breathed, a small smile on his face as well.

"Logan."

"Hey," Louis sat against the wall, setting his gun down next to him. "Didn't we have a propane tank on us at some point?"

I paused, placing my hands on my hips. "Yeah… I think…"

We all turned to Francis.

He shrugged, making a face. "Hey, don't look at me. I have no idea where that thing went."


	6. Hurry Up, Peter

Now in the protection of a Safe House, I let myself look over this new face that saved us from certain death. Logan was a slender man who most likely wouldn't be able to legally drink beer if we weren't living in an apocalypse. He couldn't have been more than twenty with short black hair and a black shirt. Black pants and black shoes. A black backpa—let's just say his apparel consisted of various shades of black. His eyes were the only pattern breakers at a light brown color.

It quickly came to our attention that Logan was the man who helped us bring down the Tank. While we were preoccupied with a certain zombified bodybuilder, a Smoker decided to make a meal out of Logan. He got lucky and killed it before it could get to him, but by the time he looked down at the field again, we were gone.

"I figured you guys were headed for the bridge, so I decided to intercept you." He paused, the corners of his mouth turned down. "I got separated from my group a few days ago. We were supposed to meet at this Safe House. When I heard the gunshots in the field, I thought it was them."

"How did you get here without taking the bridge?" I asked him. My gun was in my lap, still cocked. Despite us being inside of a Safe House, I still felt pretty shaken up and just wasn't ready to let it go.

"I went through the inner streets." Logan frowned. "You got off of the bridge before you got to the water. We're still on the same side of the river."

The guys and I looked at one another. I was sure my face looked just as pained as their own faces did.

"We wanted to cross the bridge to make it to the next town." Bill sighed, his frown more pronounced than usual. "A helicopter was taking us there but it crashed a few blocks down from here. Figured we'd make the rest of the way on foot."

"Zoey shot the pilot."

Logan's eyebrows shot up and I groaned. "Zombie, Francis. He. Was. A. Zombie!"

Francis laughed and clicked the safety on for his gun before setting it down beside him. "I know, darlin'. I'm just teasing." I glared at him before looking away, still clutching my gun tightly.

"We still haven't properly introduced ourselves." Louis stood and turned to Logan, a friendly smile on his face. "I'm Louis, this is Zoey, that's Bill, and the laughing moron over there is Francis."

There was an annoyed "Hey!" in the background as Francis reacted to the comment.

"I figured. I'm Logan," Logan smiled back, shaking Louis' hand.

"Are you going to wait for your group?" Louis asked, sitting back down against the wall.

Logan pursed his lips and shook his head. "I've been waiting 3 days now. If they were coming, they would have showed up by now." He set down his gun as well, looking away.

We were all sitting on the concrete ground of the Safe House. The room wasn't particularly large, but accommodated all five of us nicely. The walls were white cement covered in water damage and the graffiti of past survivors. There were three wooden tables against the walls. We contemplated sitting on them at first, but they proved to be too rickety. Two metal bookshelves were against the opposite wall from where we were all sitting, cluttered with empty boxes and old cans, their contents long eaten.

There was no bathroom this time, so we would have to improvise.

Bill suggested that we spend the night in the Safe House and head out to Riverside in the morning. Logan would decide whether or not he wanted to join us by then. One of the messages on the wall gave us all an idea—

_Peter._

_Army's still in riverside._

_Waiting for you at the depot._

_We finished the truck. Hurry._

Hopefully, Peter's friends didn't make it to the depot in one piece. It was a morbid thought, but we all made peace with the fact that others must die for us to survive. Of course, I don't think I could kill an innocent person to keep myself alive, but I was counting on not running into any innocent lives anytime soon.

I blinked, suddenly realizing that I was surrounded by innocent people that I cared deeply about. Could I kill them to save myself? Goddamn it; another plan failed.

I retired to a corner of the room, pulling out a blanket from my pack and setting it down onto the ground. We used up a lot of our ammo on the Tank and I knew that Bill was itching to call a supply check. He wouldn't do it with Logan around, though. Logan seemed like a normal guy, seemed like someone that we could trust, but I knew that Bill was much too cautious to take that chance.

I pulled my backpack off and set it on the blanket as a makeshift pillow. The floor was still too hard under me and I mentally cursed whoever didn't think to leave a mattress or at least a few pillows. A shiver and I tried to both wrap myself in the blanket and lay on top of it at the same time. My eyes were heavy but the cold kept pulling me back to the real world. There was a draft.

I would never be able to fall asleep.

Apparently, Louis and the new guy both had the same issue. Maybe an hour later, I realized both were still awake while Francis and Bill snored deeply, never leaving a sliver of doubt as to whether or not they were conscious.

I didn't sit up, but instead pulled the blanket closer to my face and watched. Louis, good-natured as always, tried to make small talk with the other man, get to know him a little. Logan seemed equally ready to socialize despite the time of day, but unfortunately, with most of the speaking topics of the old world being off-limits, they quickly ran out of things to say to one another. Louis gave up at some point, suddenly becoming very interested in the cuff of his shirt.

I sighed quietly to myself, staring out at the wall across from me, my eyes quickly becoming unfocused. When the world has gone to shit around you, even a question like 'Where did you used to live?' gets hard to ask. You don't want to force your companion to scroll through painful memories.

We packed quickly in the morning, and by that, I meant I packed quickly and sat on the floor watching everyone else take their sweet time. Who said that women took the longest to get ready again?

The others wanted us all to make our way to the depot slowly as to not attract attention, maybe see if there was anything out of the ordinary that we should be prepared for.

I snorted when I heard that phrase: 'out of the ordinary.' We lived in a world where the presence rotting bodies of long-dead people snacking on human flesh was considered normal. That wasn't something I could ponder over, though. The second your mind drifted in this new world of ours was the second you were risking your life and the lives of your comrades. No more daydreaming as you drove to a Starbucks to get your morning latté. Those days were behind us all.

"It was pretty quiet last night. There are probably a few vampires here and there but nothing we can't take care of with Bill's gun." Francis settled down next to me, nudging my knee with his own.

I smiled at him.

A little while later, we left the Safe House, securing the door behind us so that only sentient beings were capable of unlocking it. Logan decided to come with us, mumbling something about 'better than nothing.' He seemed pretty upset about giving up on his friends, but I couldn't blame him. These are life and death situations. He needs to do whatever it takes to stay alive and if tagging along with a bunch of strangers gets that taken care of, I don't think any of us have the luxury to hesitate.

The door to the Safe House opens up into a small warehouse room. It was packed with the same metal bookshelves that we saw in the Safe House. We went through the stuff left on the shelves, but found nothing of interest.

The outer door led to an alley with a handful of infected. Some were sitting, others roamed the grounds. A few were either laying or dead. There were a few cars and trucks scattered about in various states of disrepair. We slipped out through the door silently, making our way over to the next warehouse.

I walked in first, immediately spotting a Molotov on the ground. Excited and, admittedly, a bit reckless, I went to pick it up. An infected to my left jumped up onto its feet before crying out and jumping at me. I yelped and whacked it in the head with the butt of my gun. Its skull cracked open and it collapsed onto the floor.

We all moved into the next room of this building. It was set up like the front of a store with a large counter, which was strange considering this area seemed less commercial and more industrial.

At the sound of a hunter's scream, I flinched and closed the door we went through. Across the room was a second door—already closed.

Hunter screams normally attracted a horde of infected and the last thing we wanted to do was get surrounded. When a few seconds passed and nothing happened, I entertained thoughts that maybe there was no nearby horde to get alerted.

We all shared a look and I nodded at everyone, moving to open the first door. I turned the knob and pushed, letting it fly open, before stepping back and raising my gun. The hunter leaped forward immediately and bullets went flying, making it yelp out in pain and retreat around the corner and behind a few boxes.

I ran through the doorway, knowing this to be the perfect time to shoot it down—when it's hurt and retreating. I sent one bullet flying and the hunter let out another cry, falling face-down into the ground.

"Yes," I grinned, not noticing as a tongue shot out and wrapped itself around my waist. I screamed and stumbled forward, a smoker merely 10 feet away pulling me straight for him.

A bullet whizzed past my head and the smoker exploded into a cloud of green smoke. I fell onto the ground, the tongue still wrapped tight around my waist. Logan lowered his gun and ran to my side, pulling it off of me and throwing it to the side as I stood up and brushed myself off.

"Thank you," I sighed.

He just nodded and gave me a small smile, following me back into the next room with the counter top. We closed the door behind us and opened the door ahead, walking through slowly.


End file.
